


We Can't (Hold Hands)

by KingOfWhispers



Series: We Won (Or We Think We Did) [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dark, Demonic Possession, Gen, Horror, Mild Gore, Nightmares, One Shot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Technically This Could Be Canon, because, still surprisingly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 11:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10188815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingOfWhispers/pseuds/KingOfWhispers
Summary: Dipper is always thinking of the worst-case scenario. (Sometimes the worst is actually unthinkable.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable works. I am not Alex Hirsch.

* * *

 

And it continued...

 

* * *

 

 

_Dipper ran an ink-stained hand through his hair as he walked up the front steps of the Mystery Shack. He opened the door with one hand as he placed his hat on his head with the other—wait, didn’t he have Wendy’s hat now? Why was he back in Gravity Falls? He and Mabel had moved back to Piedmont over a month ago—_

 

**_Mabel._ **

_No, none of that mattered. He had to go check on Mabel now._

**_Hurry._ **

_Dipper rushed through the gift shop, pausing slightly at the sight of the vending machine tipped over on its side, the hidden hinges ripped clean off. There was red staining the side of the doorframe leading into the living room of the main house. Was Great Uncle Ford okay? Did something he was studying get out of the basement?_

**_Reality is an illusion…_ **

_No, it wasn’t important, and it didn’t matter because he had to check on Mabel RIGHT NOW. The brunet rushed into the living room, pausing at the sight of his six-fingered great uncle lying slumped on the floor, blood pooling around his head. He appeared to have been struck in the back of the head with some form of blunt object, and, oh god, he wasn’t breathing, why wasn’t he BREATHING—_

**_The universe is a hologram…_ **

****

_Dipper’s eyes glazed over slightly, and he walked numbly into the hallway, barely wincing as his other great uncle came into view in a similar slumped position, brass knuckle rings gripped in bloodless hands, red staining the hallway and the bottom step of the stairs. The teen couldn’t see a wound, so it must have been somewhere on his front. Dipper didn’t bother to turn him over as he staggered towards the stairs to the attic. Mabel was up there, and he had to get to her NOW._

**_This should be fun._ **

_He tripped his way up the stairs, the icy numbness in his chest giving way to a burning desperation to ensure his sister’s safety. The teen didn’t see the stairs breaking away behind him into nothingness. Dipper grasped the handle of the door to the room he and Mabel had shared for three months, barely noting its slick surface. The rest of the door was clean, untouched, unbroken, and maybe Mabel was okay—_

**_Don’t get your hopes up, kid._ **

_The door swung open silently, its well-oiled hinges—aren’t they usually creaky?—doing nothing to mask the young boy’s hurried footsteps towards the bed layered with patterned sheets and crumpled stickers._

**_They might break after they fall._ **

_Hands trembling, Dipper pulled back the top sheet to reveal his twin, fast asleep and unharmed and BREATHING—_

**_So, how are you?_ **

_He collapsed against her, sobbing in relief as Mabel stirred and turned to face him; as she placed a hand gently on his back; as she said—_

**_“Pine Tree?”_ **

_He froze, lifting his gaze slowly to meet her—no, ITS—eyes, glowing a sickly yellow shade, slit pupils barely visible against the harsh light. She—IT—smiled at him, grin unnaturally wide, hands stained with blood, stained with Great Uncle Ford, stained with Grunkle Stan, stained and HOLDING HIM AND IT WON’T LET GO—_

**_“Did you miss me?”_ **

_Dipper jerked away from the vice grip as IT laughed, scrambling to get away from the thing in Mabel’s bed, in Mabel’s night sweater, in Mabel’s BODY—_

**_Wake up._ **

****

_The pale-faced boy fell off the bed with a thump._

 

* * *

 

 

Dipper hit the floor harshly, continuing his mad scramble backward before realizing he was awake. He sat up, shaking like a leaf, and he went to the door of his almost-spartan room, rushing into the hall of their parents’ home—the Shack was really more of a home to him and Mabel, but to say that would be bad, right? They loved their parents, of course, but the twins hated being separated in such a stifling way—and dashing through his twin’s open door.

 

He opened his mouth to say something, to wake her, but a sudden fear struck him—what if it wasn’t her? What if it was Bill? What if it wasn’t just a dream? What if what if what if—

 

The teen wavered in the doorway, emotionally drained and staring at his sister with wide eyes. He flinched when she rolled over with a groan.

 

“Dip-dop? What’s wrong?” Her voice jolted him out of his trance, and he took a few hesitant steps forward when she looked at him with sleep-filled brown eyes, reaching out for him with both hands. Dipper took hold of her hands, staring intently at her eyes; he couldn’t look anywhere else, and he couldn’t sit on the bed.

 

Mabel frowned at him when he resisted her tugs towards the bed and gave him a sleepy glare and questioning look when he wouldn’t come closer for a hug.

 

“I…I can’t…I have to…your eyes…” was all Dipper mumbled as an explanation, his grip on her hands tightening to an almost painful degree. She understood what his jumbled words meant and sent a reassuring smile his way.

 

“That’s fine! We can just have a staring contest for a while. Tomorrow’s Saturday, so we can sleep in,” Mabel soothed, staring intently at his eyes, identical in color to hers but lined with more stress and worry.

 

The twins stayed awake for the few hours until morning, hardly ever looking away, and, as sunlight came in through the window, Dipper finally crawled into the bed and slipped beneath the colorful quilt. The younger pair of Pines twins tangled their fingers together as they slipped into a dreamless sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

“I know how men in exile feed on dreams of hope.” ~Aeschylus (Agamemnon, Trilogy of Oresteia)


End file.
